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Today the world got a little less incredible. Alto saxophonist, violinist, trumpeter and composer Ornette Coleman died at the age of 85 at his home in Manhattan earlier this morning. Growing up in the slums of Fort Worth, TX he fought hard and struggled his entire career to being understood and accepted. His drive and dedication came at a very early age as he stepped on stage in several RnB outfits in the late 40s as an out-of-place rail thin long haired vegetarian who everyone probably assumed was tone deaf. From frequently being booed off stage, physically beat up (his only saxophone was completely destroyed in New Orleans during one of his first touring gigs), to pissing off all the Down Beat snobs when he took the Five Spot by storm in the early 50s with his plastic Grafton, he was constantly pushing what others deemed as possible with jazz and bop. In the face of blind and rabid bigotry, racist epithets from his early audience, patronizing from his peers and constant misunderstanding and ridicule from the world Ornette strode on playing exactly as he wanted to and never once fell short of his personal integrity. Through his musical pursuits he made humbling efforts to encourage and train those young who were just starting out in music, from recording with his 10 year old son as drummer on The Empty Foxhole to creating an ‘open to all studio’ in Harlem where he was sadly robbed, attacked and left for dead in the late 70s. He gave everything for his music. In a word: he was the quintessential American Artist and there will never be anyone quite like him. So long Ornette and thanks for the inspiration, love and beauty you brought and left to this world.

If you have 15 minutes today and have never heard any of Ornette’s music, please take a moment and listen:

It’s been an extremely busy year for me and to wrap it up I have a pair of new films I am very excited to share with all of you. These films had me lugging heavy 35mm equipment through Central Oregon for that ‘perfect shot’ as well as got me completely lost on the massive railway network of Japan in an effort to film the out-of-the-way and rare moments of a breathtakingly beautiful country. In the end, they invite the viewer to hear the unspoken stories that lie between lines of dialogue and consist of an ever present theme that explores the human condition yet inspires creative interpretation.

The Three Muses, is a trilogy of portraits of individuals who have personally influenced me and represent various stages of the awareness and influence of art throughout a persons life. A laborious effort, from carrying over 90 pounds of film equipment across the treacherous snow-covered obsidian flows of Paulina Peak to the construction of a performance stage in the middle of Summit Lake atop Mt Hood, Muses was as much of a physical endurance trial as it was a collaborative feat of tenacity and vision. This trilogy was funded in part by the Regional Arts & Culture Council.

Starring
Why I Must Be Careful (Seth Brown and John Niekrasz)
Yuna Lee
Eugene Valjean
Jin Camou
and
Joe Haege

Nihon Kyuukei (9 Views of Japan) is a collection of landscape portraits shot over the course of a 3 week visit to Japan last summer. It sent me to remote and rural destinations in search of the distinctive relationship between Japan’s scenic vistas and the character of it’s people.

Three days off from biking! Mary and I spent our time in the Bay Area relaxing and catching up with friends. Thanks to Artist’s Television Access for hosting our screening (awesome space and great people; they have been exhibiting in the same space for over 25 years!) and our host Allie in the east bay for putting us up and helping me try to kill an awful cold I snatched on my way into town.

WHEREIN IT IS RELATED WHAT BEFELL NICK AND MARY ON THEIR WAY TO THE GREAT AND BEAUTIFUL CITY OF SAN FRANCISCO

‘BLESSED be Allah the all-powerful!’ says Hamet Benengeli on beginning this nineteenth chapter; ‘blessed be Allah !’ he repeats three times; and he says he utters these thanksgivings at seeing that he has now got Nick and Mary fairly afield, and that the readers of his delightful history may reckon that the achievements and humours of the two are now about to begin; and he urges them to forget the former chivalries of the ingenious pair and to fix their eyes on — the MASSIVE HILL THEY ARE ABOUT TO ASCEND.’

Okay, the hill isn’t really that bad. Since we’ve already climbed the first 800 or so feet, the remaining 1200 is actually somewhat pleasant as it is on a winding road (forcing motorists to slow) shaded by trees. Yes it’s relentless, but the descent is FUN. First though we ate breakfast at this awesome market after heading out of camp at Standish-Hickey State Rec Area:

Places likes this are a rarity in some of the smaller towns along the coastal highway(s). It was an odd agglomeration of health/junk food, Spencer’s Gifts and community center (some sort of acoustic performance was setting up next door). The variety was very welcome… (more…)

The immortal redwoods of Humboldt County, CA! Your majestic beauty and hushed surroundings are only outdone by your seemingly limitless height. Your splendor and awe-inspiring groves is a long anticipated stop on our tour and today we would finally get to partake in your grandeur. But first, LAUNDRY DAY!!

After leaving Eureka, we stopped in the small town of Fortuna, about 15 miles south on 101, to get what would likely be our last chance to use a washing machine. This stretch on 101, till the famous Avenue of the Giants, is mostly flat highway which made for fast riding but little scenery.

This mile marker on 101 marks the halfway point between Vancouver, BC, Canada and Tijuana, Baja California, Mexico

Elk Prairie campground was wet. Wet, wet, wet. A fizzy drizzle fell all night long and straight through the morning. All of our items were soaking and we had not been able to eat since yesterday so we were quiet and moody as the day began. In the same vein as Humbug Mountain Campground, Elk Prairie was named quite literally. The campground faces a large, grassy prairie which is home to a few herds of grazing elk. The morning mist covers the tall grasses and through it you can see bulky shapes and graceful mantles of antlers moving slowly. Elk Prairie was also one of the first points in our tour where we started to meet other bikers who were also headed to San Francisco. Everyone was still fresh in their tours and eager to talk to each other about the conditions and upcoming points of interest. Nick and I felt like old, road-weathered souls but were happy to meet new friends. Starvation forced us out of the campgrounds soon enough and we headed out to Orick to try and find breakfast.

Classic diner breakfast in Orick

In Orick, we were treated to a wonderful old-fashioned diner counter with good, greasy breakfast food. The waitress took particular note of our dejected, tired attitudes and after we had finished eating announced that breakfast was on the house.

As we rode through quiet country roads around some of the busier parts of 101 — Oh, by the way, if you are using the ubiquitous cycling the west coast book, ignore the author’s advice to take Ocean View Drive, but not Lake Earl Drive. She seems to think out of the way hilly terrain is preferable to a wide shouldered highway for some reason. Has she even ridden a fully loaded bike before? Where was I? Oh yes, as we made our way through quiet and flat farm land, there was but one thing on our mind: two major climbs we had to tackle today. The first, around 1200 feet, was just south of Crescent City, the other, a 900 footer, was right before our camp site at Elk Prairie. (more…)

The morning sunshine glinted through the ferns alongside the streams of Humbug Mountain and did nothing to ease my early morning grump. Nick woke up singing and whistling and generally creeping me out. He seemed excited to be camping and thrilled to be making cowboy coffee in this damp and bug-filled dawn. Turns out, Humbug Mountain is aptly named. There were swarms of the blighters everywhere and we were eager to get going to escape them. A hearty oatmeal breakfast and away we went.

Captain Cheerful eats his oatmeal

The day started out with a 600 or so foot climb, which I was entirely too sleepy for. I realized I had better get adjusted to sleeping on the ground as soon as possible if I was going to make our required daily mileage. Climbing up the mountain, we ended up in the midst of a prehistoric dinosaur stampede. I was afraid at first but Nick broke out his raptor claws, did a bit of a fey dance, let out a few screeching calls and we were in with pack. They gave us their blessing and we finished our mountain climb in relative ease. (more…)